Christmas night: hospital
by loonelydreamerrr
Summary: house stays in the hospital on christmas eve.late appearance of cuddy. yes, i know xmas is over...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: **Hiya. This story was taken off for awhile because of the abundant grammer atrocities committed. Its been beta-ed. Well, sorta, by a dear friend, and hopefully you'll enjoy it. Byeeee.. **

**Btw, Happy new year :P**

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The weather was freezing. Snow was piling up outside the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and the children were building snowmen by the garden outside the entrance. It was Christmas Eve and people inside the building were being nice and warm. The whole building was nice and warm, it was nicely decorated with glittery Christmas ornaments. However, it was an entirely different dimension within 2 feet of Dr. Gregory House. Sad, and cranky.

House never does nice and warm. As a result, there seemed to be a curious 2 feet radius of emptiness wherever he walked. A marked distinction in comparison with the general atmosphere: A group of nurses were at the lounge dressed up as elves with a cheeky one who had slapped on a Rudolph's nose on her face, were cheering up a group of children, or a couple of teenagers bringing a warm cup of coffee to their mother while they wait for daddy's health report to be released, or the gathering of an entire family around the grand dad's hospital, holding each other's hands while singing Christmas Carols and praying that he would live through this Christmas day. It's mostly a sad thing to be in a hospital during this time of the year, but the sense of togetherness and the company made things better and not… _sad_, at all.

If he had had his way, he would have clocked out at the usual 5 p.m., probably at 4 on Christmas Eve as he had done during the other festive occasions, while spending most of the day hiding in some obscure location in the hospital playing with his PSP.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the privilege this year.

_Because the devil incarnate aka Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine, administrator, boss of this hospital, boss of his, decided to host a fundraising-cum-Christmas party this wonderful year. And he had to be there. _He fumed whenever he thought of it.

He had tried to get out of the hospital to disregard his duties, but the lovely head nurse Brenda wouldn't let him sign out.

"Cuddy's orders", she said curtly, never fond of House in the first place and not in a giving mood despite The Season. However, she added kindly when House started to walk towards the exit stubbornly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. See those 2 guards over there? They received similar orders from Cuddy."

House lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the sight of the guards. _Tall,_ _strong and burly. And eyeing me suspiciously. Damn! _He knew he couldn't get away this time.

Though his fate was resigned this Christmas Eve, he told himself that though the war was over, the fight isn't. He glanced at his watch. 5.30. The fundraising/Christmas party wouldn't start till 8. _Plenty of time_, he muses. _Not for the rest of the hospital staff though_. _Busy, busy, busy._ _But not for me. _

He would have disturbed Wilson by now, probably to convince him to pack buckets of snow and snow fight in Cuddy's office. With Cuddy in the office. But Wilson was out of town to attend a cancer conference in New York a day ago and would not return till the 27th.

He sighed, headed to an empty clinic examination room and locked the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearly 7, and House had been playing The Sims 2 on his PSP. He had created a Cuddy and House avatar awhile back with uncanny likeness, and for the past couple of hours have been working on killing her in different ways, and so far on the list: Dr Cuddy had been burnt, drowned, and electrocuted to death. He was working on starving her to death when he started to feel bored. He restarted the game and decided to work fervently in letting both the avatars fall madly in love with each other.

After a while, he got tired of playing altogether and rested himself on the clinic bed. Every guy invited to the event would probably be changing into their tux by now. _And that is exactly what I'm never going to do, _he mused. His eyelids felt heavy, his breathing shallow and steady and fell into a deep sleep.

Trees, bushes, lamp posts on the streets were dressed in Christmas-sy decorations to create as well as to fit into the lively Christmas-sy atmosphere and they light up spectacularly once the sky transformed into dark purplish blue. Though this scene could not be witnessed in the clinic examination room, angelic sounds by those choir children could still be heard blasting through the stereos.

"_We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a…" _

"OH COME ON, give me a damn break!" He was irritated and awake. He looked at the time: 9.20. The party must have started. _Well, explains the music. _

He walked out of the clinic and it was seriously crowded. Drowned in a sea of tuxes and gowns, he saw Foreman talking with Cameron, Chase gripping her waist rather tightly. Thirteen chatting with Kutner. House noticed her glancing at Foreman on several occasions, weirdly. Taub was giving professional advice to a lady with a nose of a parrot and no chin. And there she was, Lisa Cuddy. Looking absolutely stunning in a pink gown, talking to donors who were appearing to be more interested in her than what she was saying. He let his eyes linger at her for a few moments and left before she catches him watching.

He walked to his office and grabbed a couple of beer and champagne that he stashed for emergency use. Ahead to the rooftop. It was tricky business as there's a short flight of stairs that he needed to climb. _Nothing this miracle candy wouldn't do, _and he downed 2 pills of vicodin, and climbed, to his own lonesome party.


	3. Chapter 3

A combination of the bitter depressants and a lonesome House on Christmas Eve brought back memories of his unjust childhood.

It wasn't that he innately loathe Christmas. Who the hell would hate Christmas anyway? He remembered himself as a child who looked forward to it. He and his mother would spend the whole day together, as his father would often be away because of some military duties. But that day would always be a happy one: unwrapping gifts, eating scrumptious home cook dishes and extra helpings of desert. But it was after he became 8 years old, where his father started turning up every Christmas due to unknown reasons that he started to dread it.

He recalled that year when he was 8, where he heard from his mother that his father would come be back for Christmas, the first time after 2 years. He was thrilled. He was hoping that his father would dress up as Santa that year. He knew Santa didn't exist. In fact he knew Santa didn't exist since he was 5. He was just wishing that his father wouldn't be so stern for once. They would celebrate Christmas as a family in 2 years, surely it would be fun, maybe he would dress up as Santa and they would open their presents together, he imagined.

It turned out that he was wrong. His father scolded his mother for wasting money for buying him a second hand guitar which he wanted, and commanded him to go to bed by 10.

When he was 11, he didn't open any Christmas presents. His father forbade him from doing so because he defied his father's orders and argued against him 3 days before Christmas.

And so he rebelled against his father every year during Christmas. And so every single year from then on, he did not get to enjoy, he did not get to go out with friends, and he did not get to open any presents until a week later.

A young House thought that Christmas was different. He thought rather naively that it was one of those rare days in life like birthdays and the New Year. Universal days of significance, when things could afford to be lazy, rules abolished for the day, little restraints, warnings and punishment, but with memories of contentment, smiles and hugs of the day. But that was never the case when his father was around. What he had wasn't discipline; his father wasn't instilling him good moral conduct and all that crap, what he had, all that he endured and survived was cruelty and disappointment. _Stupid twisted moral compass…_And so that was how Gregory House knew, from since he was as young as 10 that "people don't change".

And he couldn't stand people being merry and "spreading the love" in The Season or any other days because he had dumped those expectations of himself being a giver and receiver, deep in some remote part of his brains, messy and unexplored.

By this time he had long finished the 2 cans of beers and was more than half way through the champagne.

It's was just then House heard the sound of high heels clicking its way through the stairs.

_Damn, is it so damn impossible for me to get one moment of peace?_

He glanced at his watch: 11.30.

_Must be some idiotic couple hoping for a night of romance, counting down when the clock strikes beautiful 12. _

He tried shoving his cane through the handle of the door, preventing unwanted people from entering his crappy space for the night but found out the handle was too thin. He cursed again. He wasn't too worried though, he was quite convinced that the person that would walk through this door in the next few seconds would be repelled by his overwhelming aura of misery and crankiness. No way would they choose to linger anywhere around his sight.

However, he couldn't immediately hide his surprise from his face, when he saw her. The stench of alcohol, with a tinge of misery so obvious, exude from the unconventional angel he saw everyday, her beauty radiating from the way she carries the exquisite gown even though her hair was a little messed up from the moment she walked through the door.

_What is Lisa Cuddy doing up here? _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hullo. there's the new update. New year came and gone. I actually considered postponing this story till this Christmas. But that would be too lame. Oh what the heck. **

**Enjoy reading. Reviews would be love. Be kind. :P **

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"Oh… I can see someone's having a little party of his own here already." Cuddy remarked, a large coat resting on her forearm, an empty glass and a bottle of wine. She has plans of her own too.

"And I'll have you for company, how lovely." The sarcastic tone densely filled the air. It seemed to escape Cuddy, or she chose to ignore it as she returned the snide with a genuine laughter that made his heart skip a beat.

Cuddy situated herself adjacent to the wall House was at. Only the door between them. She let out a groan, the moment she sat and her back leaned against the wall.

"My god, these shoes… Arrghhh! They. Are. Killing. Me." She complained while taking the killer 5 inch designer heels off, and throwing them as far and she could, to the other side of the rooftop. She wiggled her toes, sighing contently, while pouring away the alcohol into the glass.

"An uninhibited Cuddy- obviously wasted. And what's with the glass? "House talking to himself, a little too loudly.

"I am not drunk and it's Christmas, I am entitled to some slack. Because I -- unlike someone who perpetually misses clinic duty, dump all the paperwork to his subordinates, and even on Christmas eve, have to give me trouble by not even helping out, no, scratch that, not even bothering to show up for the fundraiser -- have been doing my and his job."

"Ahh, you talking about me is it?" House said sarcastically in the way only House was capable of.

"Ha ha, very funny, House", Cuddy rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but unable to keep the smile off.

She was clearly used to it.

"And the glass", Cuddy said as she twirled the bittersweet contents, "well it's just unsightly to drink from the bottle. Besides, I'm here to enjoy the atmosphere, not to drown my sorrows. Not to mention savoring this", she stretched out her lengthy legs, crossed it at the ankle and then took a gulp, "really awwweesome wine."

"Cuddy, Cuddy, you are just so full of crap when you are drunk."

She glared at him and pouted.

"Firstly, you are Jewish. You don't celebrate Christmas. But that's barely a point. You have a twisted sense for everything to be perfect in this sadly imperfect world which means", he sighed and continued, "that you will never get to enjoy life. Christmas or not."

Insensitive comments, never mind if it's partly true. Frequent. Would usually go both ways, which is why when Cuddy response, or rather the lack of one, intrigued, and made House a little uneasy.

Another gulp of the nearly emptied glass.

They sat in silence in the winter night, snow twirling in mid air as the wind changes directions. A scenic view perfect to be shared by people who cared about each other. If they could just close the distance between them, lift their heads, and gaze at the sparkling stars, instead of choosing to keep their thoughts fully occupied towards the other party.

He was good at reading people, to get leverage, because that's mainly the way he worked around people; manipulate and screw the hell out of them to get what he wanted: bribe, threaten, guilt, torture - whatever it took. Opening up would be the last resort.

Cuddy wasn't spared either. The purpose though, differed vastly and intimately, superficially for work and attention but in fact subconsciously creating chances, time after time to find a reason to believe that he was capable to be safe from pain and misery. Capable to love and be loved in return. He had been deprived of that in his childhood, denied himself that most of his life, and now he just wished. But doom him to hell if he ever admitted it. And the living hell he was in every festive season.

So there they were, lost in their own thoughts. Cuddy was thinking about why was he always right, why was she there, what she saw in him. House wondered why she was there, why he always said the wrong thing, why he felt less miserable the moment she stepped through the roof door.

_And suddenly a thought struck him. _

"Wait, why are you here?"

"You do know I work here right?"

"No, I mean, _here?_"

Cuddy couldn't say anything out.

"You know I'm always in an extreme holiday mood every this time of the year, and I tend to snooze my way through work, knock off early to save energy for the awesome party at my place. I did that for the last 5 years, and this year, this year you organized that lame fundraising party thing." He narrowed his eyes, staring at her suspiciously.

"Purr-lease, what awesome party? You'd be lucky if you can drag Wilson there, and even then I won't call it a party; it's a date. And I didn't organize it. Oh, you think I want it? The board made a consensus decision on that one. I don't even get much say because there's no reason", she paused, "or excuse to not go with it."

She spoke the truth but House wasn't the least bit convinced.

Because that wasn't the point.

"And what about the stocky watchdogs at main door, or every exit available?"

He gasped in his usual mocking manner, "You want me here, with you."

Then his tone completely changed, his sapphire eyes shone, brightness equaled the diamonds in the sky, "Admit it."


	5. Chapter 5

"Why are you sitting so far anyway? Sit here, and give me that." House patted the empty space of concrete next to him and motioned her to give him the alcohol. His bottle was already empty.

He took the bottle rather too eagerly. Cuddy frowned while she settled beside House. Arms touching, Cuddy's skin drawing heat from House's coat. He drank a mouthful, looked satisfied and noticed Cuddy's expression. He patted the bottle and held it protectively, and said to Cuddy, "This baby keeps me warm."

"Oh come on, gimme that." It was Cuddy's turn to take a swig.

"So what's with this elaborate set up, Cuddles?"

That sentence just earned Cuddy 2 extra gulps from the bottle.

"Hey, slow down, leave some for me."

The night was turning into a let's-see-who-get-wasted-first-contest and it seemed as though Cuddy had finally consumed enough alcohol to muster the courage to confess. Or it's because of the piercing stare of House's that never left her.

"Okay, okay. I admit that I took… extra measures to keep you here tonight."

House observed her twirling, playing and cracking her fingers, typical of her when she's contemplating, her heart would be thumping furiously, mind racing through different permutations of cause and effect. At times, while on the way to clinic duty, he would catch her twirling and stretching a rubber band in her office, deep in thought. And he would just stop to his tracks hooked into her, willing his way into her mind.

And then she spoke. "Everybody needs somebody. Wilson isn't here, and I thought that maybe you and I… can be each other's company. Or maybe I'm making an ass out of both of us by assuming that you would have any emotion that resembles an inkling of anything positive. But I guess I don't really care."

"Misery loves company huh?"

Cuddy frowned but realized that it was the truth, uncouth as it was, but true. Maybe it was time to change.

The same old ritual she did year after year, sending expensive presents to nieces and nephews, a telephone call apologizing, conjuring something that sounds pressingly important to excuse her repeated absences. She didn't fit in; something was always weighing her, something missing.

Watching her siblings' kids running about, giggling, pleading for an extra scoop of ice-cream with those innocent Bambi eyes, and when they got it, cheered in euphoria and- even the 'bad' times- fighting for the remote control, messing with each others' Lego models, all the screaming, shouting and crying, and despite all of that, all it does was plastering a blissful exhausted smile, a contented sigh of happiness on her siblings' faces after they finally carried their sleeping angelic faces to bed.

She saw and took in all the familial bliss, akin to a dark-hole-ish void, but it wouldn't matter, because it didn't belong to her, and she doubted if it ever would.

She then stayed at home working on some budget reports that could wait for another 2 weeks. Work as companionship. Work as peace. Work as meaning. She could get used to it.

Until getting used to it was unbearable, until she hated that she was getting used to it. Because ever so often, just when she was accustomed to her monotonous lifestyle, an old friend, dear House would creep up and harshly remind her that she was miserable, subtly implying that's not what she wants, and that she could have more.

_You act like employees should fear and respect you, but you're eyes tell us-- Actually, your eyes tell us nothing, 'cause we're looking at your boobs-- Which tell us that you're desperate to have someone jump on you and tell you they love you, one grunted syllable at a time. __**What you want, you run away from. What you need, you don't have a clue. What you've accomplished makes you proud. But you're still miserable.**_

She still kept that peer evaluation form, and every once in a while, she would read it. Each time increasingly convinced that House was right. Rude, uncouth as it was, but true. House knows her. She knows House.

One step at a time then.

"Well, that's another way of putting it…" and with that Cuddy lazily rest her head on House's shoulder and sighed. It's so comfortable. But lifted it up less than a minute later.

House was pleasantly surprise, the fleeting sweet scent of her perfume, but just when he was contemplating of pulling her closer, smelling her hair, wrapping his arms around her, just wanting to keep her warm and safe, she pulled back. His impulsiveness was driving him crazy.

He looked into her eyes, understood her loneliness, so similar to his. Their memories, their loneliness, hesitation and regret.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop staring at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like… like you can see through me, read my thoughts, thoughts that even I am confused about, stuff that I don't have answers, stuff that I won't have the answers unless…"

Cuddy couldn't continue the sentence, because she don't know how, because she is scared of admitting what she really wants, what she truly needed, of House and to House. They complement each other.

And because his lips are on hers. Immediately, their eyes closed and within moments, Cuddy's hand on House's cheek and another around his neck and House's buried in her hair, passionate tongues dancing.

And dancing around they have been. For years, on the same dance floor - with different partners, sometimes standing at the sides, yearning for someone, but never the right one. They partnered occasionally, but broke off before they got too comfortable. They bickered, ignored and avoided, but never lost sight of each other.

The kiss felt right. The most incomprehensible kind of reaction: two people found each other and at that instant, loneliness and misery disintegrated.

They just realized it had been like this all along.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" the crowd cheered as Christmas arrived. At a distance, fireworks blasted into the air, celebrating two particular best friends' beginning.

They broke their kiss, catching their breaths.

"It's beautiful up here."

"How did you know I would be up here?" he asked and wrapped his arms around her. Curiosity certainly hadn't escape House.

"I don't really know for sure. Just a hunch. If you were still in the hospital, this is where you would be."

House smiled, deep dimples showing, "Happy holidays, Cuddy."

"Merry Christmas, House."

They didn't elaborate or confirm anything. Perhaps everything is in the unspoken. Perhaps that's for another day or perhaps they will absurdly blame it on the alcohol. But at this moment, it seems that the universe has a special set of law governing them: an attraction that is inseparable, irreplaceable, sincere and true. And they have no way of denying it.


End file.
